"The Morocco business is getting into a
complication. France may very likely send out an expeditionary force
within a few months. At all events, the opportunity will be taken of it
to upset the Ministry, and Laroche-Mathieu will profit by this to get
hold of the portfolio of foreign affairs."

Du Roy, to tease his wife, pretended not to believe anything of the
kind. They would never be mad enough to recommence the Tunisian bungle
over again. But she shrugged her shoulders impatiently, saying: "But I
tell you yes, I tell you yes. You don't understand that it is a matter
of money. Now-a-days, in political complications we must not ask: 'Who
is the woman?' but 'What is the business?'"

He murmured "Bah!" in a contemptuous tone, in order to excite her, and
she, growing irritated, exclaimed: "You are just as stupid as
Forestier."

She wished to wound him, and expected an outburst of anger. But he
smiled, and replied: "As that cuckold of a Forestier?"

She was shocked, and murmured: "Oh, George!"

He wore an insolent and chaffing air as he said: "Well, what? Did you
not admit to me the other evening that Forestier was a cuckold?" And he
added: "Poor devil!" in a tone of pity.

Madeleine turned her back on him, disdaining to answer; and then, after
a moment's silence, resumed: "We shall have visitors on Tuesday. Madame
Laroche-Mathieu is coming to dinner with the Viscountess de Percemur.
Will you invite Rival and Norbert de Varenne? I will call to-morrow and
ask Madame Walter and Madame de Marelle. Perhaps we shall have Madame
Rissolin, too."

For some time past she had been strengthening her connections, making
use of her husband's political influence to attract to her house,
willy-nilly, the wives of the senators and deputies who had need of the
support of the _Vie Francaise_.

George replied: "Very well. I will see about Rival and Norbert."

He was satisfied, and rubbed his hands, for he had found a good trick to
annoy his wife and gratify the obscure rancor, the undefined and gnawing
jealousy born in him since their drive in the Bois. He would never
speak of Forestier again without calling him cuckold. He felt very well
that this would end by enraging Madeleine. And half a score of times, in
the course of the evening, he found means to mention with ironical good
humor the name of "that cuckold of a Forestier." He was no longer angry
with the dead! he was avenging him.

His wife pretended not to notice it, and